The Stains on the Picket Fence
by Toshihiko1
Summary: A prologue to a larger story, "The Stains on the Picket Fence" details Giovanni's life before The Dark Ages came full circle. A must-read for Team Rocket fans.
1. Default Chapter

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~ I do not own pokèmon. If I did, my friends would all laugh at me.  
  
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CHAPTER 1: THE REVIEW  
  
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"God. Is he dead?"  
  
The rough orange jacket was scraped against the carpet, black blood still and thick.  
  
"He's always been dead."  
  
His square jaw was cracked open, dangling uselessly--another thread of blood had crusted over his lips.  
  
"Someone really roughed him up."  
  
The body was crumpled--delicate in a sort of holy horror. The arm was torn out of its socket, knee bent backwards.  
  
She threw up, spewing a hot, watery mix of food and stomach. The stuff bounced forward, mingling with the blood, which was everywhere--the walls, his desk, the door.  
  
"Sorry," she managed weakly.  
  
Grant put a hand between her shoulders, and she lurched again. And again. She wiped her mouth, the smell still fresh.  
  
Giovanni was dead.  
  
===========  
  
Giovanni squinted, resisting the urge to put up an arm and block the flood of white light. His suit itched--he hated suits. He'd gone through this routine every two years since he could walk. He was fourteen now, beyond the wailing and sniveling stage. Now he was in the thoroughly annoyed stage. He could make out blurred figures. Huge--blown out of proportion by the lights. They sat in a circle around him--trapping him on all sides.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"The son of my mother." It was a programmed response. He was familiar with the routine. They always asked the same questions.  
  
"Whom do you belong to?"  
  
"The people."  
  
"Who serves the people?"  
  
"You do."  
  
"Who provides for the people? Who keeps order?"  
  
"You do."  
  
"What do you want?" It was a different voice, a little reedy with an accent Giovanni couldn't place. But he was prepared for it. Every year, they asked a new question at the end. He never answered it correctly. There was always a pregnant silence, and he was escorted out. The answers they wanted escaped him. Giovanni searched himself, and the answers fell like bricks, each bashing against his tongue--each worse then the last. What you want. What my mother wants. That wasn't the question. I want out of this suit. I want to go somewhere. I want for you to shut the lights down. I don't want anything. I want--Giovanni trembled a little.  
  
"Power."  
  
"You have power." They'd answered him. He'd said something right. --Or something wrong. Something very, very wrong.  
  
"Not enough."  
  
"What would be enough?"  
  
Giovanni whispered his response, feeling it sting strong. "There will never be enough."  
  
There was a familiar, painful silence. It dragged on, raking over his chest. Forever passed. Someone grabbed him roughly by the arm and led him outside.  
  
===========  
  
"Idiot." Mother adjusted her layered red hair, off-white sundress purer in the summer heat. Her legs were neatly folded, cool green eyes focused in the distance. She refused to meet her son's eyes.  
  
"I tried, mum. I just--don't know what they want from me--" Giovanni smoothed his hair back nervously, then loosened his necktie.  
  
"Leave it on."  
  
Giovanni left the tie alone, shoving his hands in his pockets. He straightened his shoulders, eyes already taking on his grandfather's serious, steely tint. "I'm tired of them. We're always doing everything to make them happy--what about Team Rocket? --What about?"  
  
"You're getting married."  
  
Giovanni's fists tightened into balls, gritting his teeth. "What?" Maybe she'd change the answer.  
  
"Married. She's a nice girl. Her parents are well-off--I already secured everything."  
  
"How DARE.Why are you bringing this up now? Just to shut me up? I'm not a kid--How DARE you--"  
  
Smack.  
  
"Yes, m'am."  
  
The day was settled.  
  
===========  
  
"Tell me about The World, Daddy."  
  
Giovanni wriggled in his one-piece pajamas, toes curling.the blanket was snug against his chin.  
  
"Before the wars--"  
  
"Waaaaaaaars?"  
  
"When two or more groups of people fight over something."  
  
"Like with pokemon?"  
  
"No--no. Like with guns. Before the wars, people lived in relative freedom.the freedom of each place was dictated by its rulers. They hurt themselves and held nasty battles. People died."  
  
"It's not like that now."  
  
"No. Humans aren't in charge any more."  
  
"Who's in charge? Who, who?"  
  
"--If you don't stop interrupting me--"  
  
Giovanni pulled the covers up to his nose, mumbling an apology. There was a silence between the two, a sort of tension.  
  
"People died. But one day--" Tension broken. Everything was good.  
  
"The greater animals got together. These animals were bigger and smarter and better then all the other animals. They could talk, too--just like us. Humanity was broken. Things were bad. So the animals got together and united the world--"  
  
"Mommy tells the story differently."  
  
Daddy froze. "--How does mommy tell the story?"  
  
Something was wrong. Giovanni squirmed. "She--"  
  
Daddy used his angry quiet voice. "How does mommy--"  
  
Giovanni began to cry.  
  
===========  
  
The leader of Team Rocket woke up cold. He was sweating, body slick and stuck almost grossly to the covers--he groped for his wife. For that thick knot of hair, that cool shoulder. He found her wrist, and was comforted. "Samantha," he murmured, voice strange.  
  
"What?" There wasn't much sympathy. Giovanni didn't expect it.  
  
"Nothing." What had he been doing? He'd had a dream. It was slipping fast. Familiar, and wrong.  
  
"Your hand is sweaty."  
  
"Yeah." It was. What was it? The specifics. The harder he tried to hold them, the faster they just--slipped. Slipped away. Was it a dream? Had he been dreaming? And then there was that feeling of--bad. Of wrong.  
  
"Where's Faust?"  
  
"You and that cat."  
  
"Me and Faust," He reaffirmed. The wrong was worse.  
  
Giovanni tossed the covers off--too thin and wet--stumbling into the bathroom. He clicked the light on--there was a moan from the bed. Giovanni shut the door, cutting off all but a sliver of yellow. He felt something warm brush his leg and yelled--Faust. The Persian looked at him coldly-- analytically. "Just you." The cat knew. The cat knew what he was forgetting.  
  
"You've got that board meeting tomorrow." The voice was muffled--from outside the bathroom door.  
  
The board meeting. Giovanni turned on the faucet, rushing water to his face. He looked in the mirror wearily. That must be it. His analysis--his meeting with The League. And all the dreams were gone, washed away, leaving only that lingering feeling.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
"Is it the baby?" Giovanni asked the Persian softly. "Is that it?" No. That baby--his baby--was inside Sam's tummy, somehow safe. She was round with the baby--his baby--fat.  
  
Faust only examined, ever cold, with those knowing, slitted eyes.  
  
Giovanni pushed his face into a towel, disoriented and disturbed. He clicked off the light, finding his way to the bed. The sheets were just linen. The sweat wasn't as overpowering. His hand rolled over Samantha's belly, reassuringly. She cradled his hand, pitch half-asleep.  
  
"You alright?"  
  
"Nerves."  
  
Giovanni's hand drifted away. Samantha was fully asleep in a minute or so-- Giovanni followed her. Sleep came too easy.  
  
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~Well, there's my first story's first installment. Most of the chapters won't be that long, but no promises. Also, if you fail to review, my self- esteem will plummet and I'll throw rocks at myself. Or crush my fingers, making me unable to type--because I'm an attention-mongering pig. And, since I'm obviously the best writer ON this site, the world will be at a loss and collapse into a self-loathing heap.  
  
No lie.  
  
Also, after many attempts at uploading, I realized that this blasted place registers ellipses (that's dot dot dot to those of you that don't pay attention in English) as periods. I'm overly fond of the things, and my work is RIDDLED with them. I'm all over this problem like a Nazi on a Jew in a wheelchair. Until it's resolved, though, I'm working hard for ALL you unnamed readers, and editing them into dashes. Just realize that they're meant to be read as ellipses.  
  
**PS: If you want to read some great fanfiction, flip on over to AyumiH. She's a bad person. (And she has a mysterious rash)  
  
***PPS: Kid her about it. Seriously.  
  
****PPPS: I have nothing against wheelchairs, or the Jews that inhabit them. 


	2. The League

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Long time no see. You know I was worth the wait.  
  
Dear commentators, I adore every golden pearl-string of praise. Don't applaud, just throw money.  
  
Charles: -takes a bow- I think I deserved that. Trowa: Get on more, you silly thing. Cosmic: Poor Gio doesn't get any attention at all. I theorize it's his lacking of eyebrows. Jinx: She's going to LOVE this next chapter on Sam, then. But I think you already knew that.  
  
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Giovanni's thoughts were scattered...he had two things that normally consumed his thoughts.  
  
Business, and the baby.  
  
He attached money with business.  
  
But right now he was distracted.  
  
Giovanni pulled a little faded blue over onto the road's red, choked shoulder. The car was a rental, but was behaving...Faust quivered in the back, large body pressed against the tan seats. Faust didn't like cars.  
  
The limousine had been vetoed.  
  
Giovanni cranked the stick shift into park, then adjusted his suit, crisp. His shirt was black, and the tie and suit were a muted gray. He smoothed back his hair.  
  
"Alright, stop yowling, we're there."  
  
The walk was taken slow...by the end of it, Giovanni and the Persian were covered in dust. The cat's stomach was burned red, and Giovanni was orange from the knees down.  
  
The building in front of cat and man was hidden by strange, white trees...they wretched and curtsied over the place, alive. The entire thing had been constructed in under a day...and would be torn down just as quickly. The trees would go on their merry way. And The League, once again, would fade into the world's roots.  
  
"On time, Gi-Gi?"  
  
"I try." Giovanni's voice was flat.  
  
"Cigarette?"  
  
"Cigarettes are for women."  
  
Lance chuckled. He couldn't be more then 15, but the League's champions were getting younger and younger. Lance adjusted his gloves boredly. "They'd better hurry. Blaine's been in there for over an hour."  
  
"Who else has been?"  
  
"Just the hedgehog from Pewter. Complaining about his kids. We've got a lottery on when he murders them in a bathtub."  
  
"And who...?" Giovanni's cold black eyes flickered over to a younger girl...Easter-purple hair curled tight to her cheeks, and she wore sharp black glasses.  
  
"Lorelei. She's a nice pair of legs. ...Those with the ring get last dibs."  
  
"More's the pity. You know how I indulge in pedophilia. What is she, twelve?"  
  
Lance laughed. "You're an old man. How's Sam?"  
  
"Pregnant," Giovanni replied stiffly.  
  
"Not getting any, then?"  
  
Giovanni smiled thinly. "You have a foul mouth. I thought you'd been commissioned to The League's good boy image."  
  
"I'm still sulking over it. They said I'd mellow out by next year."  
  
"You're still thinking with your pants. You're too young to think with your pants, and they do little in a tight spot. Littler in your case."  
  
"How's business?" The enquiry was sweet, with a poison-edge.  
  
"A lot better then your pants." Giovanni lifted his face to the sky, the shadowed trees, the sudden cucumber cool.  
  
"Dearest Gi-Gi..."  
  
"It's Giovanni," he corrected, the word touched with an Italian accent.  
  
Lance folded his arms, digging his back into a tree. "You don't expect me to BELIEVE you deal solely in machinery and medical advances."  
  
"You have a reason to believe otherwise?"  
  
"Just a hunch."  
  
"Morality means a lot to me, Lance. That's why I'm here. The League keeps us safe...keeps us secure. Humanity would tear each other apart."  
  
"You have at least five times as much moolah as the rest of us."  
  
"...And I fund a good chunk of The League." Giovanni was beginning to get irritated.  
  
The double-doors swung open. No one actually saw who escorted Blaine out...the hands were black and blurred. They could have belonged to a gorilla or a child.  
  
"Blaine!"  
  
"Hah, good news, I expect!"  
  
"You were in there forever...almost capped Lance's record."  
  
"Which one of us is next?"  
  
Blaine brushed his suit off, touching his moustache worriedly. He looked at the circle of Gym Leaders and Champions, managing a stern frown.  
  
"Oh, not all at once, not all at once..."  
  
"You didn't try those awful puns of yours, did you?"  
  
"AWFUL? I dare say-"  
  
===  
  
Lance was gone for only ten minutes...he came out looking prim and satisfied, expression smug.  
  
The Cerulean Gym leader, a nervous young man with a guilty face, took thirty.  
  
The process continued...most of the leaders left after their turn was over. A few stayed. The ring thinned.  
  
===  
  
The lights were bright, wrecking Giovanni's eyes. Faust stood by his side complacently, pupils shrunk to splinters.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Giovanni of Vermillion, Leader of Team Rocket, son of my mother."  
  
"Whom do you belong to?"  
  
"The people."  
  
"Who serves the people?"  
  
"You do."  
  
"Are you, Giovanni, a traitor?"  
  
"Ever had traitorous thoughts?" The second bit was added on hurriedly.  
  
"Never." Giovanni's voice was questioning.  
  
"Would you ever have traitorous thoughts?"  
  
"...I cannot think of a circumstance..."  
  
"Would you?"  
  
Giovanni paused. "Perhaps."  
  
There was a pleased silence.  
  
"We thought as much."  
  
"I only mean that I cannot perceive my future, or..."  
  
"We can."  
  
"Giovanni of Vermillion, Leader of Team Rocket, son of your mother, who was faithful to us in all matters..."  
  
"You are hereby denied the rights or ability to propagate."  
  
"Marriage to another of opposite gender containing the ability to propagate is frowned upon. Denial of that station will be considered."  
  
Giovanni froze. But his wife...did they want him to divorce Sam?  
  
"What about the baby?" His voice was tense, strained.  
  
"Abortion."  
  
"It...it's too old."  
  
"Then we will see to it."  
  
"What did I do?!" Giovanni demanded suddenly. "What did I do! Please, consider your poor servant..." Sudden, furious, choked.  
  
"Are you having traitorous thoughts, Giovanni of Vermillion?"  
  
"I'm upset with myself. My own sins. I can't recall...Surely I've done something..."  
  
"It is not your sins we are concerned with."  
  
"We find no fault in you."  
  
Giovanni was silent. His hands were tight, trembling. He rested one against the back of Faust's neck.  
  
"I...I'll deliver the child to you. You can raise it yourself."  
  
"We will consider this."  
  
"Or, if I was to find a secondary family...so it would have no knowledge of you...pose no danger, no threat."  
  
"We will consider this."  
  
"Please..."  
  
The customary silence.  
  
Faust was grabbed around the back of the neck. He felt his wrists and shoulders restrained. Drug away.  
  
Giovanni felt very, very sick.  
  
===  
  
"Ho, ho, bet they gave you a raise."  
  
"Yeah, did you-"  
  
The babble of greetings faded. Giovanni's face was pale, withdrawn.  
  
"You alright, old boy? They didn't...?"  
  
"I've got to get back to the car. Back home."  
  
The sun was setting...no telling how long he'd been in there. The time spent with The League and the time that passed outside were separate. He wanted to get home. To Sam. To the baby.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, of course. One of us could drive you..."  
  
"You look awful."  
  
Giovanni was already past the circle of Gym Leaders, rushing past their curious and sympathetic faces. The fast walk stumbled into a jog. And then the only thing that seemed to matter was being home.  
  
============  
  
Well, there it is.  
  
I'm not apologizing for not updating. I suddenly got the hankering to write this, and I did. It's rather rambly. I enjoy doing conversations. More women, action, and blood in the next one. On my honour.  
  
Would our favourite author do anything so cliché as to make this child the infamous Ash Ketchum?!!?!  
  
I'd rather shove ice picks in my toenails and swoop around screaming, "Look, Ma! I'm a raptor!" Remember, this is Giovanni's story.  
  
Besides, I have my own theory on Ketchum's dad. It works like this: In the American dubbing, quite a few members of TR have names involving the outlaws of the Old West. Jesse James, Butch and Cassidy...  
  
One outlaw, numbered in the top ten for fame and bounty-head, went by the name of "Black Jack Ketchum". No kidding.  
  
Now, this could give us a key to Ketchum's father, or perhaps the boy's own bleak future. Either way, it's good fanfiction material. Feel free to steal.  
  
The ending came off a little, "I'm running and I'm cry-yi-yi-ying..." The non- propagate ordeal explains Giovanni's need to sit in dark rooms with a phone and a Persian. And his lacking of scantily dressed women who cling to his hips, despite being horribly rich.  
  
Ah, the allure and sorrows of forbidden fruit.  
  
============ 


	3. Home Again, Home Again, Fiddledeedee

The rental car couldn't go fast enough. The sky was bleached, red stains filtering into the clouds and runny sun...the large yellow eye was already a slit above the horizon line.

Giovanni punched the radio with his thumb angrily, gritting his teeth as cheerful, annoying pop songs rolled into whiny Djs. Punch. Celtic. Punch. Techno. Punch. Heavy Metal. Punch. People talking. Punch.

Faust yowled from the back, claws leaving vicious holes in the backseat. His back arched, body bunched together. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Giovanni attacked the thing, now not even waiting for the songs to get out more then a yelp. Punch. Silence.

Giovanni felt his chest heave. His lips got tight. ...The League was good. They were responsible for him. For his mother. For his station and wealth. They kept the world in balance. They kept it running. They kept away war. But so help him, if they did anything to his baby...No. No, that wasn't right at all.

He took one hand off the steering wheel, wiping it on his pant leg. He was sweating. ...He wouldn't be able to get home until nightfall.

"Sam." He said aloud, mouth dry. "Sam, honey, you keep yourself and my kid safe. Do you hear? You keep him safe until I get home." The radio switched back on, humming something sick-sweet low. Giovanni cranked the volume down and let it run.

Giovanni must have spat out at least seventeen different blistering profanities for not bringing an abra with him. The drive was long, and the closer he got to his house the lighter he felt. He was relatively young, and it was a new house. Sam hadn't wanted anything big, even though she was used to being pampered. They'd settled on a reclusive one story home, set in sand and woods...it was outside Viridian's main clog of buildings, and a few miles from houses on either side. The peace sat with Giovanni just fine. They had a guest house out back, and had parties every now and again where everyone got drunk, threw trash in the pool, and went home sick but happy. They always had to dig one or two couples out of some of the house's closets in the morning, but everyone complimented the hosts.

Sam was always more of a social butterfly.

They worked well, politically. He would stand at her arm, smiling warmly as she lead him to this or that official, introducing him to their wives and wallets.

And when he worked the business world, she stood at _his _arm, sporting that friendly, sweet smile that she could pull off so well. She was the kind of arm candy that made you trust the man she was holding onto. Both their families had connections. Giovanni was still ripe and ambitious, doing his mother's company proud.

They fit together. Made for each other. Practical. The marriage had been well-arranged.

"Sam?" His legs were dead. When his fingers found the car door, he nearly stumbled out. It was dark. The house lights were on.

Faust stretched in the backseat, crowding into the front in a liquid motion. The Persian piled out of the car past Giovanni, cleaning itself indignantly.

_She's dead._

The words came fast and sudden...that whisper in the back of your brain that tells you crazy things. Giovanni swallowed the thought repulsively. He thought about other things. Any other things.

"Sam?" It was a little louder. The door didn't swing open. No one looked out the window.

Giovanni sat back down in the car, reaching over and undoing the glove compartment. The gun was still there. He placed it carefully in his jacket, then clicked the car keys and pulled them out of their socket. ...The walk from the car to the front door was a long one.

He stepped into the living room half-expecting to be greeted with blood and Sam sprawled across the sofa in her underwear. She walked around the house like that, sometimes. It was only him, and it got hot in the summer. They didn't have any neighbors to complain about the exposure and open windows. He stifled a smile. ...The living room was yellow and alone.

"Sam?"

He felt his gun reassuringly, glancing into the kitchen. The refrigerator was open. He closed it. ...Giovanni moved out into the hallway, opening the doors along the way. The bathroom looked fine. He pulled aside the shower curtain. Nothing. ...She'd be in their bedroom, sleeping. Fallen asleep watching the television or something. Forgot to turn off the lights. Maybe got up for a snack and left the fridge dangling.

The bedroom was empty.

The spare bedrooms were unruffled and silent.

Giovanni took his hand out of his jacket.

He didn't want to make the march to the guest house. That was what nightmares were made of. You get home. The door's open, your wife's gone, and you find a fellow sitting on the edge of your bed. Or waiting just behind the guest house door. Who knows how long he'd been there? Grinning with his eyes, skinny and withdrawn. Maybe he was sobbing. But he's quiet now, and wearing your wife's lipstick and bloody dress.

Giovanni felt for Faust. The pokemon was in the kitchen, yowling and pawing at the cabinent. "I'll feed you later." Giovanni said, very loudly. To make the house seem less empty. He might have already crawled out of his skin if Faust wasn't there. Keep yowling, cat.

Geez, someone was behind him. He turned. No one there.

_Run._

There was no one there.

Giovanni found the radio plugged next to the sink, and spun it loud. So it would fill all the empty spaces.

He opened the screen door from the kitchen slowly. The Guest House was dark. He'd have to make the crusade across the lawn blind. He felt like a little kid again. It was that moment where you switch off your lights and race to your bed before the monsters can get you.

Only mom wasn't just down the hall. She was dead from all those cigarettes. And if you reached the bed, the monster might just be under the covers.

Go, you idiot. Just run.

Just GO.

He found the body on the lawn.


End file.
